FIC: ST RPS -- Turnabout Intruder in My Pants (4/7)
Title: Turnabout Intruder in My Pants (4/7)
Author: the_deep_magic
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 overall)
Word Count: 2,655
Warnings: crack, overused fandom trope
Disclaimer: so very, very untrue
Summary: bodyswap!fic
A/N: There might be a bit of a delay before the next part. D: I’ll do my best to get it out in a reasonable amount of time, though (i.e. not two months).
Monday / Tuesday / Wednesday
Thursday
Zach’s still pretty pissed, but what can he do - not go to New York and try and get his body back? Not an option. First, of course, he’s got to actually get to New York
He rings the doorbell again, shifting his weight from foot to foot on the stoop. There's a car in the driveway, so hopefully he hasn't come all the way over here for nothing. His flight leaves in just a couple hours, anyway.
When Joe finally opens the door, Zach is so glad to see such a familiar, normal sight that he throws his arms around Joe's neck.
"Whoa. Uh, hi, Chris, how's it going?"
Shit. Well, Chris and Joe had done a little drunk cuddling on the press tour, so this isn’t totally unprecedented. Still, Zach lets go of him quickly. "Hey, Joe, pretty good. Can I come i- Oh my god!" At the sound of the jingling, Zach pushes his way past Joe into the house.
Noah rounds the corner at top speed but can't quite get his footing on the hardwood floor. His nails scrabble for traction and he finds it, but not before his rear end overshoots the turn and collides with the wall. Buoyant as ever, though, he launches himself into Zach's - well, Chris' - arms just as Zach bends down to greet him.
"Hi, buddy! Oh, who's a good doggy? Who's a sweet doggy? Joe, you've got to remember to clip his nails. Your floor will thank you."
"Uh, sure thing," Joe mutters as Zach continues to scratch vigorously behind Noah's ears. The dog wriggles happily and licks at Zach's face, and for a second, Zach forgets everything that's happened in the past three days, just elated to see one of his babies again. It’s the best he can remember feeling in days. But then Joe says, "Wow, Chris, I didn't know you and Noah were so close."
"Oh, um. Zach called me the other day, asked me to check up on him."
Joe rolls his eyes. "Jesus, Zach and this dog. If he finds out I've been feeding him regular dog food, he's going to shit a brick."
Zach catches himself just in time, glad Joe doesn't catch the pained expression on his face before he can get it under control. "Weren't you supposed to only be feeding him that high-protein organic food?"
"Hey, I totally did - until it ran out. Do you have any idea how expensive that crap is?"
"Joe, if you need money, I’m sure Zach will..."
"Not the point. Besides, Noah likes the regular stuff better, anyway." Joe shrugs, leaning back against the closed door. Right, he'd consider Chris a guest. And probably not want to leave him alone in his house, especially not after that incident with the lamp in Paris. "So, what's up?"
"I, um..." Zach tries to say it, say Well, since you asked, I'm actually your brother in Chris Pine's body, but his voice dies in his throat.
"Yes?" Joe asks, quirking his eyebrow, the bastard. It took Zach months to learn how to do that, but of course Joe was apparently born knowing how.
"Could you drive me to the airport? I'm going to visit... Zach."
Now both of Joe's eyebrows shoot up. "Really."
"Uh, when he called me the other day, he asked me if I would go see him. Maybe see his play."
"Taken you long enough," Joe snorts
Damn straight it has. "I know. I feel kind of bad about that."
"You should. Do you have any idea how much he's..."
"What?" Zach snaps, his hand dropping from Noah's head. What exactly is Joe about to say to Chris? "He's what?"
"Nothing," Joe says, shaking his head. "Nothing, man. Just, I thought maybe you were..."
Noah is smacking Zach's hand with his nose now, but Zach barely notices. "You have some kind of problem finishing your sentences?"
Joe laughs and throws up his hands. “Hey, back off, jackoff! When’s your flight, anyway?”
“In… two hours.”
“When did you buy the tickets?”
“Just the other day.”
“Fuck, you couldn’t have, like, called or something?”
“I can drive myself, it’s not that big a deal.”
“Nah, I’m free,” Joe says, scrubbing his hand over his hair. “Better leave soon if we want to get through traffic, though.”
After one last rub down Noah’s back, Zach stands. He didn’t come over with the intention of telling Joe, but Joe’s his brother. He has to believe him, right? “Joe, listen. Before we go, I have to tell you something.”
“Alright,” Joe says, heading back toward his bedroom. “But be quick about it.”
“I’m, uh…” Joe isn’t even looking at him, and he doesn’t know what to say, so it kind of comes out in one big rush. “I haven’t been able to figure it out, but something really weird happened on Sunday night, or possibly Monday morning, and I woke up, uh, not in my own body. And I know it sounds crazy and you probably aren’t going to believe me, but I’m Zach. I’m your brother. Somehow I managed to switch bodies with Chris, even though we’re 3,000 miles apart and I haven’t seen him since, like, May, and neither of us have any idea how it happened, and we’re going to meet up in New York to try and figure it out, so that’s why I’m going to New York.”
Somewhere in the middle of all that, Joe had stopped digging through his closet for a jacket and turned to face Zach. “So… you look like Chris.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re really Zach.”
“Yes.”
A slow smile spreads across Joe’s face, and for just one second, Zach thinks he gets it. But then Joe lilts, “So, ‘Zach,’ how are you enjoying your stay in Chez Pine? I’m sure there’s plenty of unused head room up there.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Joe laughs and shakes his head. “It’s a new one, I’ll admit, but it’s a little over the top, even for you two.”
Dammit, Zach knew there were going to be repercussions for getting Joe’s suitcase sent to Beirut that one time. He’d tried to tell Chris, but Chris had insisted… alright, they both thought it was funny at the time. “Joe, I know how this sounds, but I’m telling the truth.”
“Y’know, it’s really best not to fuck with someone who just agreed to drive you to the airport,” Joe says, ducking into his closet and emerging with a pair of shoes.
“No, seriously, ask me anything. Something only you and I know. Remember when we were kids and you dared me to eat an entire package of double-stuff Oreos and I puked black all over Mom’s good coat?”
“Shit, I can’t believe he told you about that.”
“Joe, come on, ask me something.”
“Alright, Zach.” Joe appears to think it over. “What did I tell you after you opened my present on your last birthday?”
Oh, shit, Zach can’t remember. In his defense, he’d been drunker than fuck that night but trying to hide it, since Joe always took advantage of Zach’s slower wit when he was drunk (which actually puts him on par with Joe, Zach is fond of claiming). What had Joe said? Something about their dad? Zach definitely doesn’t want to guess that and have it not be right. “That’s not fair. I was drunk. Ask me something else.”
“Chris, seriously, I’ll drive you to the airport, but give it a rest.”
“Come on, Joe.”
Almost to the door, Joe whirls around on him. “I’m sorry, you seriously expect me to believe you pulled an X Files-level body swap with my brother? What the fuck, Chris?”
“I don’t think that ever happened on The X Files,” Zach says weakly.
Hearing the sound of Joe’s keys, Noah bumps his head against Zach’s thigh and whimpers. I know, buddy, Zach thinks, reaching down for a final scrub of his head. I miss you, too.
&&&
About halfway to the airport, Zach realizes there’s just no way to convince his brother. Plus, Joe’s starting to become obviously irritated, and Zach’s seen him push a man out of a moving car before. True, it was fifteen years ago and the car was only going a few miles per hour, but still: moving car.
“Tell Zach I said he’s a total squirrelfucker for not calling me on my birthday,” Joe says as he hefts Zach’s bag out of the trunk and sets it on the curb.
“Yeah, uh, thanks for the ride,” Zach mutters. He starts to raise his arm to hug Joe, but then realizes it might be kind of weird coming from Chris and puts it down again.
Joe gives him a strange look. “Hey, no fucking around now - be nice to my brother.”
Zach nearly falls over - he’s never heard those words pass Joe’s lips before. Hey, punch my brother in the throat, maybe, and definitely See if you can hit my brother in the head from this distance, but never “Be nice to my brother.” Joe’s being serious, too. Why would he say that? Yeah, Chris can be a dick sometimes, but Zach’s pretty good at returning his dickishness in kind when the need arises.
By the time he remembers he should probably reply, Joe’s back in the car and driving off. Zach tries to flag him down, but either Joe doesn’t see him or doesn’t feel like stopping. It’s been known to happen.
Zach goes inside to the e-ticket machines, intending to avoid checking his bag. Sure, as Chris had so helpfully pointed out, Zach can afford the $25 fee many times over, but really it’s the principle of the thing. If they make him check his bag at the gate, he’ll deal, but no way is he paying to carry basic necessities.
Only one of the machines appears to be working and it’s occupied by a family with at least five children - they’re surrounding their parents like a giant screaming cloud of electrons, so it’s impossible to get an exact count. The actual check-in line looks like it’ll take less time, so Zach steps over, pulling the wallet out of his pocket and removing the ID.
As he waits in line, Zach can’t get Joe’s words out of his head. He supposes it’s not that odd of a thing for a sibling to say, but why had Joe felt the need to say it to Chris? As far as Zach knows, Chris hasn’t been in regular contact with Joe since the press tour. And he’s pretty sure Chris wouldn’t have badmouthed him to his brother anyway. It doesn’t make any sense. Yeah, Zach had gone through a period where he had sort of a… thing for Chris. But Joe doesn’t know about that. Does he?
“Next,” calls the hassled-looking man behind the ticket counter, and Zach steps up. “Name?” the guy asks, like it’s painful to spit the words out.
“Zachary Quinto,” Zach says in a low voice, hoping not to call attention to himself.
“Destination?”
“New York. La Guardia.”
“Checking any bags?”
“Nope.”
“ID, please.”
Zach hands it over, fingers of the other hand fiddling idly at the hem of his hoodie. Funny - he doesn’t usually do that.
“I’m sorry, sir. What did you say your name was?”
With a sigh, he murmurs his name again. Balls, Zach thinks, not a Sylar fanboy. He really can’t deal with that today, because-
“Then why did you a hand me an ID that says Christopher Whitelaw-”
“Fuck.”
“No, Pine.”
Zach tries to think fast. It is largely unsuccessful. “Because, uh, that’s my name. One ticket to New York for Chris Pine. That’s me. Chris Pine is my name.”
The man cocks an eyebrow - is he fucking with Zach? “Alright, Mr. Pine, what’s your date of birth?”
Oh, shit. It’s definitely in late August on an even-numbered day, either the 24th or 26th. Zach can never remember. Chris always gives him crap for it, too. “August… 26th?”
Zach’s pretty sure he got it right, but he must’ve taken too long, used the wrong intonation or something, because the guy behind the counter is picking up his walkie-talkie without taking his eyes off Zach. “No, wait, sir, I really am Chris Pine. That’s my face on the license. See?”
He does his best to replicate the tragically dorky smile he knows Chris is sporting in the picture, but the guy is obviously unmoved. “Then who is Jeffrey Quinto?”
“Zachary. Zachary Quinto,” Zach corrects before he can stop himself. “He’s no one. He’s just some idiot, I swear.”
The guy raises the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Hector, I’m gonna need security to Delta counter four.”
“No!” Zach yelps, much too loudly. “You don’t need to call security. There’s no problem here.” Seven thousand photographers in the greater Los Angeles area seem to have Chris’ face tattooed on their asses, and this guy has no clue.
The guy takes a careful step back from the counter. “Look, Mr. … Pine, or whoever you are, I’m carrying a taser and I’m authorized to use it in emergency situations.”
“No, please, there’s no need for that.” People are starting to stare now - how has this escalated so quickly? Chris’ body’s fight-or-flight response is obviously way touchier than Zach’s because he can feel himself breaking out in a sweat. Not suspicious-looking at all. Nor is his recently purchased one-way ticket to New York (who knew how long before he’d be back in his own body?) and lack of checked baggage. Again, fuck. “My flight is in half an hour, if we could just…”
Zach had unthinkingly ducked his head for low visibility and leaned forward so he could speak more quietly, but the guy obviously takes it precisely the wrong way. “Sir, step away from the counter.” His hand drops to his belt, but the walkie-talkie’s already sitting out on the counter…
Then Zach’s hands are being yanked behind him and a zip tie is closing around his wrists. He hears a few gasps and prays no one’s got a cell phone camera out. Large hands spin him around to face the biggest woman he’s ever seen. She’s easily as tall (and broad) as he is, and she’s wearing a navy blue security uniform and a nametag that reads “Bev.”
“Come with me, please,” says Bev. It’s not a request.
&&&
In point of fact, Bev ended up being Zach’s saving grace. She’d frowned as he’d stammered through a story about how it was all supposed to be a joke, but then vouched for him to the other security personnel in the room. When they left, she’d confessed to being a Trekkie “from way back,” patted him down in a very business-like manner, and strictly instructed him to hold off on the pranks until they were back on set filming number twelve. But that hardly makes for a good airport story, so Zach’s planning on telling Chris about Javier, the (slightly imaginary) TSA officer with a gruff demeanor but gentle hands.
But first, he has to take the time to thoroughly regret moving into a building that doesn’t have an elevator. It had seemed fun and quaint at the time, but maybe Chris has a point about the movie star thing.
Zach’s so focused on lugging his suitcase up five flights of stairs that he doesn’t spare a though for what’s on the other side of door number 58. He actually digs in his pocket for the key before remembering that he doesn’t have it because it’s not his pocket. Or his hand.
He’s just raised his fist to knock when the door starts to creak open. “What the hell,” he hears his own voice say. “I thought you were supposed to be here three hours ago.”
Zach has a retort all ready to go when Chris steps forward into the hall light and it’s…
“Zach.”
“Chris.”